My Red Car – Beauty or the Beast?

All the cars in the taxi company I was now working for had names. These names were derived from the radio call sign which was usually based on the registration number of the particular vehicle. Some of the names were interesting like "computer", while others were a bit tardy such as “new mike”. There was a romantic couple of cars by the names of “Romeo 1” and “Romeo 2” respectively.

My car, my red car, was aptly named “Victor”. I believe this was due to the number of grown men over whom she had come out a victor. Many had driven her in the past, and many had given up their dreams of becoming famous taxi drivers because Victor always won in the end. I was determined to persevere although from what I had heard, it would be a tall order as many had fallen by the wayside in their pursuit of defeating victor.

Most of the cars in the company were white, some of them off-white. Some were gray. A few were green. One was red, and Victor was her name. She stood out from the rest. She was not a normal red. She was a very bright shade of red – like blood – like oxygenated blood; and oxygenated was what she was. Her paint work work was really good, almost no scratches – save for a few on the bumper corners, the evidence of near misses by drivers gone before me.

Victor’s interior was in sharp contrast with the outside. The upholstery was in fine-printed black and white fabric but the dashboard and door panels were in heavy black plastic. The ceiling was in immaculate white. At a glance, it was a beautiful and comfortable car – at a glance.

I came to know of Victor’s first shortcoming on my first night on the job. It had something to do with the seats. They tilting knobs had stuck with the seats upright and they could not be reclined. That was rather inconvenient especially because I had to sleep in an upright seat in a cold car –well, the heater didn’t work as well. At least my recently acquired “brand new” second hand jackets would keep me bearably warm. The interior of that car was not all gloom however. It had a really nice Daewoo sound system (I guess that was because Daewoo used to make electronics before they decided to try their hand at making cars – not so successful at first, and Victor was among their first batch of experiments – A Daewoo Racer).

Victor had a powerful engine and could move really fast. However, she was not very friendly around town as she had a manual steering. Maneuvering that car in tight spot used to be like attending a gym weight lifting session session. Thankfully, the car was very stable especially when cruising. I couldn’t even tell when I had a puncture – and those were numerous, I had to rely on bystanders to warn me. That was how stable Victor was.

Powerful engine and stability aside, the car had serious technical issues – and severe unpredictability. Sometimes it could just decide to accelerate itself without any input from me. The first time it happened I almost banged into another car. Other times I would release the clutch only for it to disappear right under the dashboard. The next time I needed to use the clutch, I would have to stop the car and look for it. Victor was one moody girl.

I was recruited during the famous El-Nino rains. There used to be very heavy downpours in Nairobi at night. This didn’t help me much because Victor had only one wiper, and that wiper had only one speed – very slow. To make matters worse, her headlights were perpetually dim and could not illuminate anything beyond two meters away. The only way I could drive a bit safely was by following other cars going my direction head to toe – until they got home, or got suspicious of me and threw me off. When that happened, I would crawl and wait for the next car to follow. Alternatively, I would drive by instinct, literally feeling the road. Needless to say, any client I carried in Victor at night, swore never to use our company again unless he or she was assured that it would be any other car that be sent to pick them.

Victor had functional windows but the driver’s window reached only half way. This ensured that I was well soaked from my right shoulder all the way down. I didn’t look forward to nights, and more so wet nights. I had waited so long to drive Victor and now I didn’t know whether to love her or hate her. I could not tell if Victor was a nice girl, or a horrible one. Maybe I will never be able to decide if Victor was a Beauty, or a Beast, or both, or none. One thing I know, she ushered me into the real world, and for that, I will always be grateful.